


A long-lost friend

by GenuineSnoof



Series: The Retired Adventurer [1]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Canon divergence - Erik stayed at the school, Charles' Horrible Childhood, Charles' parents were assholes, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenuineSnoof/pseuds/GenuineSnoof
Summary: During training, Erik finds an old toy of Charles' in the loft.





	A long-lost friend

“All right,“ Charles said in a soft, calming voice and took his hands off of Erik’s knees. “Close your eyes.”

Erik closed his eyes, lips twitching in a suppressed smile.

“Concentrate,” Charles chided and an image popped up in Erik’s head of a door behind which his naughty fun ideas for what might also follow an order to close one’s eyes played like gifs on an internet site. There were even sound bites.

The door fell shut with a soft click.

Erik frowned. 

“Concentrate,” Charles said again. He sounded a bit too smug for Erik’s liking, but he decided to let it slide for now and instead focus on the metal he could feel in the study. He and Charles sat cross-legged on one of the old, rough carpets, facing each other. Erik could hear Charles' even breaths.

>Are you concentrating?< Charles asked in his head.

For an answer, Erik opened the button on Charles’ trousers. >Yes. So hard. Oh, wait, for the final touch…<

Charles’ hand he wore his watch on moved gently down towards where his zipper was sliding open. 

Snorfling, Charles yanked it back up. >Well, good. We don’t need a demonstration, I think. Now expan-<

>You think I could make your blood move to certain places without accidentally killing you?<

>I know you can, darling. Let’s just focus on-<

>With my powers.<

Charles sighed. >You can do it with some of your powers, as we’re both well aware of. Now – are we doing this or not?<

Erik pouted a little and nodded. 

>There’ll be time for moving blood all you want later,” Charles promised. “Probably numerous times. Are you sure you’re feeling every bit of metal in this room?<

>I moved on to the basement and the ground level and the garden.<

Charles grinned. >Teacher’s pet.<

>You were taking too long.<

>Words rarely ever heard from you.>

Erik opened his eyes to cast Charles a wry look. Charles tilted his head slightly, gaze wandering down Erik’s front.

“Can we go on?” Erik asked out loud.

>How far into the garden are you?< Charles asked.

Erik hadn’t found out yet what it was exactly that made Charles talking in his head while he was right in front of him and looking at him so unbelievably sexy. Probably something creepy, like the thought that Charles’ sweet smile and huge eyes and mock innocent expression weren’t in fact connected to the voice in his head. One of Charles’ favourite tricks to get Erik to turn off the TV or put away the book was to give him the shyest smile he could muster, his gaze so nervous he almost looked like tearing up – and then let loose a string of complete and utter filth in Erik’s head. Suggestions, pleas, promises; never images, though. So far, it had proven to be a fail safe method.

None of that now. Charles was just talking in his head, because he was lazy and in experiment mood. It was still sexy, though. 

>Fence,< Erik replied and closed his eyes. >It’s getting harder to focus on anything beyond that.<

>That’s not as far as you can go with visuals.<

>Yeah. We knew it wouldn’t be,< Erik said. >Back in the house now. Second floor. There's some silly belt on one of the kids' bed. A truck with a skull on it. How original. Moving on to the loft. Not much there. Dunno what this is… this is a ladder… Here’s a… I guess a bike? Weights… Have you ever cleaned up up there?<

When Charles didn’t reply, Erik opened his eyes to meet his incredulous gaze.

He rolled his eyes. “Or had someone come in to clean it up?”

“Nah. I don’t like the loft.”

“Why, were you sent up there as a kid with no supper when you’d been bad?”

“Yes.”

Erik’s smirk fell. “Oh.”

“The cellar was my stepfather’s laboratory and the wine cellar, so there was only the loft left.”

“Sorry,” Erik said sincerely and reached out to give Charles’ knee a slight squeeze. “I didn’t mean to sound callous.”

Charles smiled and took Erik’s hand in his, gently stroking it with his thumb. “No, it’s fine. You know it wasn’t the best of times, but it’s all in the past now. I have everything I need and the loft can go fuck itself.” He grinned, lifted Erik’s hand and kissed his palm before letting go.

“We could clean it up and turn it into a nice loft,” Erik said. “And if you don’t want to go up there, I can do it. There shouldn’t be a place in our house that you hate.”

Charles gave him a rueful smile that to Erik looked a bit like maybe there was more than one place they would have to take care of, then, in this house. 

But he just said, “We’ll see. It’s not like I’d have a nervous breakdown if I had to go up there. It’s not like a cellar from a Dickensian orphanage, you know, it’s a very spacious loft. I just didn’t like being locked up, and it was usually pretty cold up there and, well, I would worry about Raven. That I wasn’t around to make sure no one saw her. Up there, I had to concentrate harder on making her invisible for others, because I was so scared.” He sighed a little, as if exasperated with himself. “It wasn’t as bad as you think. Raven just hid when I was sent to the loft and when I was older I would just … ride one of the servants.”

At Erik’s sudden change of expression, Charles giggled and poked his tongue out at him. “In their heads! That way I wouldn’t have to stay up there. One day, my nanny came in to let me out while I was still in the gardener’s head outside. She thought I was unconscious and really panicked. After that, my mother stopped sending me up for a month.”

Erik leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Charles' forehead. “I love you,” he said quietly. “I'll think of something to do about your messy loft.”

Charles smiled gratefully and put his hands on Erik's knees again. “Let's move on. It's not really my loft, anyway. None of my stuff was ever up there.”

“Ah. Well, the weights should have made that clear.”

“I owned weights and they weren't in the loft,” Charles pouted.

“Paperweights.”

>Close your eyes and move on,< Charles said in his head.

Erik grinned and closed his eyes. 

>Let's get out of there. Maybe you could try and feel inside the wa-<

>No, wait,< Erik said. >There's something here... I don't know what it is. It's tiny.<

>Coins?< Charles asked.

>Smaller than that.< Erik frowned in concentration. >I don't know what it is. It's round and very small.<

>Are you sure it's not a penny?<

>I know what a penny feels like.<

>Well. If it's just tiny, d'you want to try bringing it here? Tell me if you can keep it in the air while opening the doors.<

Erik's frown deepened. >Yeah, I can. It's not heavy, but heavier than it should be, I think it's connected to something. Out of the loft now.<

“All right,” Charles said out loud and nudged Erik's knee. “Get it down here. I want you to open your eyes and try to hold on to it.” He nodded at Erik when he'd opened his eyes and stood up, Erik following him.

Charles poured two glasses of champagne at his desk and leaned over to push the door closed. “Let's have a proper surprise,” he smiled.

Erik rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You locked ALL the doors?”

“It's an experiment!” 

“In the hallway now.”

Charles picked up the glasses and handed one to Erik. “Can you still not tell what it is?”

“It's a tiny button with the face of a bear engraved on it.”

Charles snorfled. “What?” He turned his head when the door opened.

“Ta daaaaaa!” Erik exclaimed and in floated a very dusty soft toy in the shape of a fox clad in green tweed jacket and trousers, a dirty white pullover, a tweed hat and little riding boots. It was hanging in the air as if held up by its right ear, where a faded yellow tag was attached with a metal button, marking it a Steiff toy. 

Charles stared at it, his glass hanging so low from his fingers the champagne was threatening to run out of it.

“He'd hug you,” Erik said, “but he feels like he should clean up a bit first. He told me on the way.”

Charles turned his head to now stare at him.

“An old acquaintance of yours, I presume?”

“It's Sir Foxtrot,” Charles said incredulously and put away his glass.

Erik chuckled and nodded. “Fox being his first name?”

“Lancelot,” Charles said absently. He very gently picked the toy from the air under its arms, still completely baffled. He looked into its unmoving face. 

Erik watched him fondly. “Sir Lancelot Foxtrot. In his... hunting gear. What was his main occupation?”

“Well, he was more or less his own fox,” Charles said and looked back at Erik with a smile. “Inherited enough money to enable him to have numerous adventures. Climbed the Mount Everest, swam the English channel, that sort of thing.”

Erik nodded in mock seriousness.

“His mother was German, you see,” Charles said as if he suddenly remembered. “A Steiff.” He held up Sir Foxtrot to show Erik the little button. “He wore the family mark with pride.”

“Has he been to Germany?”

“Oh no, but he, uhm...” Charles smiled in a mixture of embarrassment and childlike pride. “ Well, he quite often traveled to occupied France during the war and helped the Resistance there.” He averted his eyes, then looked back almost carefully as if checking that it had been all right to share the information of what his childhood games had been about.

Erik laughed. “A fox after my own heart.” He stepped closer and lightly patted Sir Foxtrot's dusty hat. “His latest adventure seems to have left him a little worse for wear.”

“I didn't know he was in the loft,” Charles said quietly, looking at the toy again. 

“Maybe he moved up there when you moved out,” Erik said. He picked a few of the bigger dustballs off of Sir Foxtrot's jumper.

Charles laughed lightly. “You know, he really must have. My mother told me they'd given everything away when I went to school in England.”

Erik raised his brows. “Everything as in all your toys? How old were you?”

“Oh, I was already 15, I didn't have my old toys anymore. I saved a few for Raven, but she didn't have Sir Foxtrot.” Charles gently stroked the fox' snout. “No, everything. I was sent to school abroad and the first time I returned for Christmas, there was... just nothing left. I stayed in a guest room. They had turned my room into a guest room, too, but they didn't put me in there.”

Erik frowned. At 15, he'd had long forgotten what it felt like to own anything of importance to himself, let alone call a room his own. Living with Charles the past years had reminded him that he had once before felt like he belonged somewhere, that there had been another place he had once called home. A safe place all his own. 

He tilted his head slightly and put his hand on Charles' hair, felt Charles leaning into the touch.

“Your mother gave away your things?”

“Everything I hadn't taken to England with me. All my books, my maps...” He cleared his throat and smiled sadly. “It's not like I ever felt particularly at home here, anyway. Not before... well, this now.” He looked up, his smile changing. “I was pretty angry, but I knew I should have expected as much of her and Marko. But I remember I was sad that I hadn't taken him with me.” He gave Sir Foxrot a little squeeze.

Erik withdrew his hand and took the toy out of Charles' hands to look at its face.

“I didn't think of taking my old stuffed fox with me, I mean, I was 15 and I was going to live at a boys' school... And I didn't play with him anymore, anyway, he just sat on my shelf. But when I came back and everything was gone and... he was gone... I was rather sad. I don't even know where I got him from. I only had toys I made them buy me, when I found out I could, but Sir Foxtrot has always been there. Someone must have bought him for me... just because I was a child.”

“Your parents always sound like such assholes,” Erik said and shook his head, de-dusting Sir Foxtrot. “Even without what Marko did to you, they're like villains in a children's book.”

Charles laughed and hugged Erik's waist from behind, watching him clean up Sir Foxtrot. “At least it'd have a happy ending.” He pressed a kiss to Erik's neck. “I don't know how on Earth he could have escaped. He always sat on my shelf.”

“Raven?” Erik suggested.

“I'd put her into a boarding school in the country, until I got my own flat in Oxford and had her come after. She wouldn't have been here,”

“Maybe he fell out of a box when they stored it?”

Charles V'd his brows. “They didn't store my things in boxes, Erik. They had collectors come in and evaluate them for auctions.”

“ … right.”

Charles suppressed a grin at Erik's reaction and nuzzled his ear. “My taste has always been impeccable.”

“No kidding,” Erik said. “Even your old teddy bear is posher than me. Better dressed than I've ever been, too.”

“To be fair, our gardener is,” Charles said and hugged Erik tight when he tried to turn around and presumably tickle him. “Sorry! Sorry!” He laughed. “Aren't you interested what your award is for your excellent result in today's experiment?”

“If it's the same as when I got the upstairs loo running again, I'll take it,” Erik said and moved his hips a little to brush against Charles'.

Charles hissed briefly and cleared his throat. “That was just... pay, this is an award.”

“Ah. And aren't you forgetting I brought home the most renowned foxventurer in all of foxdom? Isn't there a reward for that?”

“You must ask him,” Charles said. “Lucky you. He's had quite a few Aventures Amoureuse in his heyday.”

“You were a strange child, Schnuppchen.”

“I just read a lot.”

“Hm mm,” Erik nodded and looked down at Charles' hand wandering down the front of his trousers. “So your tweedy fox here isn't straight?”

“I read a LOT,” Charles said.

“And into humans?”

“Well... I did read some-”

“How about good old Lance takes a relaxing hot bath,” Erik said and floated Sir Foxtrot up and outside the door which closed behind him, “while I collect my award and the reward for bringing him home.” He wriggled around in Charles' arms and leaned in to kiss him, wrapping his arms around Charles to draw him closer. 

They kissed for a while, Charles' hands busy finishing what they'd started till Erik's trousers fell down to his feet. 

“A hot bath sounds nice,” Charles said.

“Maybe after,” Erik said, stepped out of his trousers and walked them over to the couch, where he gently pushed Charles down and climbed on top of him. 

“You know, you shouldn't have send him away, there's things you don't know about Sir Foxtrot,” Charles panted, while Erik undid his buttons, nibbling at his neck. “He's like you, he likes to watch.”

Erik's head fell forward onto Charles' chest as he giggled into it.

Charles chuckled softly, petting Erik's hair.

“Maybe once he's cleaned up a bit,” Erik said and kissed him again.

>But he likes it dirt-<

>Shut up, Füchschen. And don't say 'make me', you know I will.<

>I like being incoherent even better than being quiet,< Charles said and arched his back to meet Erik's hips. 

>I thought this was my award.<

Charles sighed in Erik's head and flipped them around with less grace and more strength most people believed him to have. “All right, all right,” he said, running his hands up Erik's chest. “You get to be the incoherent one this time.”

“Yay!”

“But only if I can project it all to Sir Foxtrot. It's been so long for him.”

>You little pervert,< Erik thought when Charles claimed his mouth again.

>It's the way you like me.<

>I like you any way.<

>Let's see about that.<

THE END


End file.
